The smell of disinfectant clung to the air. The white ceiling above me never changed, no matter how many times I opened my eyes. Machines beeped rhythmically beside me, each sound counting down the moments I had left.
I was only sixteen, yet my body had already betrayed me. The doctors called it a rare disease, as if giving it a name somehow made dying feel less unfair. My classmates were preparing for exams and part-time jobs, while I prepared for the end.
I wanted to scream that it wasn't fair. But my voice was too weak. Even breathing felt like a battle I was destined to lose.
The only place I had ever felt alive was inside a game—Arcanis Online. A world of kingdoms, dungeons, and legends where I could swing a sword without coughing blood. A place where I wasn't a patient, but a player.
But even there, I was nothing more than an escapee.
A tear slid down the corner of my eye. If only I could live there… not here. Just once, let me stand without pain. Let me fight with my own strength.
The monitor flatlined. The world dimmed.
And then—I opened my eyes. Crying. Not as a patient, but as a newborn.
A beautiful lady held me in her arms. At first, I thought she was my mother. Then I noticed a young woman lying on the bed, her eyes brimming with tears of joy as she reached weakly toward me. My tiny body grew heavy, and before I could make sense of it all, I drifted back into sleep.
When I awoke again, I was cradled by a man. He was crying too, though unlike the woman, his tears carried a deep fear. On Earth, black and brown hair were common—but this man's brown hair paired with strikingly unique eyes. Looking around, I saw others as well. They all shared that same hair color, yet each bore different, vivid eyes I had never seen before.
With time, I began to notice more. Everyone around me spoke a language I couldn't understand. The home I lived in wasn't the comfortable apartment I remembered from Earth. It was a humble hut, built of wood and simple materials, though large enough to hold several rooms. And yet… my new parents never seemed unhappy. They were always smiling, always showering me with warmth. This world might not have Earth's comforts—but here, I was cherished.
I wasn't alone, either. I soon realized I had two siblings—one about ten years old, the other closer to seven. They were curious about me, but Father always scolded them whenever they tried to touch me, warning them not to come near with dirty hands.
Many visitors came each day. New faces, new eyes. Some shone the same bright blue as my father and sister. Others reflected the soft green of my mother and brother. Rarely, I saw shades I thought I had left behind on Earth—deep black, earthy brown. Each color fascinated me.
Day by day, I tried to respond to my family in the only way I could—crying, babbling, mimicking their voices. Slowly, I began to piece together the rhythm of their lives. My father often returned home late, weary but carrying himself with pride. My siblings followed him closely, while my mother and I spent our days alone together. She never seemed to mind. Her smile never wavered when she held me, as though simply watching me breathe was enough to fill her heart.
At night, the hut grew quiet. My siblings would fall asleep in their room. My father sat by the fire, his tired face glowing in the flames. My mother would hum softly as she rocked me in her arms, her warmth chasing away the cold.
For the first time in years, I felt safe. No beeping machines. No hospital ceilings. No suffocating loneliness. Just a family's love.
I closed my eyes, knowing I wasn't the same as the baby they thought I was. I carried sixteen years of memories—of pain, of regret, of a life cut short.
But here, maybe… just maybe… I could live again.
For the first time, I wasn't waiting for death.I was waiting for life to begin.